| |
Rejection really does hurt as research links
emotional and physical pain
October 10, 2003 By JENNI LAIDMAN
Blade Science Writer
Rejection
packs the same painful punch as a blow to the gut as far as your
brain circuitry is concerned.
In today's issue of the journal Science, a researcher from the
University of California Los Angeles used brain research to show
that even the mildest rejection activates the same part of the
brain that registers physical pain.
It's also a nifty demonstration of the way evolution builds on
a primitive system. A brain circuit critical to our survival -
the awareness of pain - creates an emotion linked to infant survival
- the need to keep mother close by.
Nearly 30 years ago, a Bowling Green researcher made the same
observation, only he did it in the brains of guinea pigs. Since
the 1970s, Jaak Panksepp has studied the emotions that evolution
etched into mammalian brains. As a result, Dr. Panksepp saw his
funding disappear, and his papers rejected. He lived an outsider's
life in the field of neuroscience.

Jaak Panksepp has studied mammal behavior and raised questions about whether animals
experience emotions. (The Blade/Allan Detrich)
|
|
In short, he learned about
rejection from the inside out, as well as from the outside in. Now,
finally, neuroscience seems to be approaching for a rare embrace.
"He was probably one of the first people to talk about this: that
the system that keeps us close to other people piggybacks on the
pain system," said Naomi Eisenberger, the lead author of the paper
in Science.
Now, the researcher who insisted - over the protest of an entire
field - that animals have emotions, that they feel separation, and
caring, and that what they feel is critical to understanding the
human brain, is finally able to feel a bit of acceptance himself.
The Science article, for which he wrote a commentary, is the most
recent sign that Bowling Green just may be home to one of the leading
thinkers in neuroscience.
In Ms. Eisenberger's Science publication, she showed that adults
are exquisitely sensitive to rejection. Using functional Magnetic
Resonance Imaging, she watched what happened in the brains of subjects
playing a video game of catch.
The research subjects were not told that the other players were
computer-generated. At first, the subject was included in the game,
and the other "players" toss him the ball. But as the game progressed,
the subject was left out.
Each subject of the study said he felt rejected. And in each brain,
his pain circuitry - centered in a structure called the anterior
cingulate cortex - lit up.
The pain circuit gets its first emotional workout in infants, Dr.
Panksepp says. But the statement is controversial.
Separate a baby from its mother and it cries: kittens, puppies,
rats, guinea pigs, humans. It's a universal mammalian response.
While most of us see the whimpering as an expression of distress,
not all scientists agree.
You cannot see inside the puppy's brain. You cannot know its feeling.
You can describe its behavior, but you cannot say what that behavior
means.
"I'm not comfortable projecting my feelings onto my spouse; so I'm
sure not comfortable projecting them onto a rat,'' says Mark Blumberg,
a psychology professor at the University of Iowa. He is one of many
neuroscientists reluctant to speculate on animal feelings.
His own research suggests animal separation cries may convey no
more emotion than a sneeze. They appear to be the physical response
to reduced body temperature. The cry may be part of an automatic
reaction the animal uses to squeeze blood from its limbs back to
the heart.
That's it. No emotions. Just data and a hypothesis.
That approach represents the way all neuroscience conducted itself
when Jaak Panksepp first mapped the brain circuits for the crying
baby animal.
"When we were developing our ideas, to say an animal felt pain was
to indicate you were outside the main camp." Of course pain can't
be seen, Dr. Panksepp acknowledges. But it can be measured.
He learned he could provoke emotional responses in animals just
by stimulating the right parts of the brain.
"You can make an animal appear happy, appear scared, appear lonely,"
he said. But what did that really mean? Standard neuroscience said
it did not necessarily mean anything.
"I am the fool who went the one extra step and said, I'm sorry,
all the data indicates the animal also has the emotional experience,"
Dr. Panksepp said.
And that's how he got into trouble.
"He has been an outsider, quite frankly,'' says Thomas Insel, the
director of the National Institute for Mental Health. "Jaak's not
somebody who has been at the core of neuroscience because he was
there way ahead of his time."
There is more than a little cruel irony in the fact that Dr Panksepp
bears perhaps more than his share of difficult emotions. His daughter
Tina was born a few years after he began studying emotions. When
she was 1 year old, he became both mother and father to the girl
when his first marriage ended.
Then, in 1991, his daughter and three of her friends were killed
in an automobile accident in Bowling Green. A drunken driver hit
her car broadside.
He's not maudlin, but Dr. Panksepp makes no secret of this tragedy.
He mentions his daughter's death in the footnotes of the commentary
he wrote in this week's Science. Her silhouette is imprinted in
his 1998 book, Affective Neuro- science.
In 1998, Dr. Panksepp brushed against fame. It wasn't so nice. People
Magazine wrote an item about him. News of the Weird, a compendium
of the day's strangest news stories, gave him a mention. Ripley's
Believe It or Not featured his work in one of its cartoons.
His feat: He'd discovered rat "laughter."
It was a strange moment. He had just authored a book that synthesized
the ideas of his career. It was the summary he hoped would put him
on the map. Yet he found himself instead at the center of attention
that was more silly than serious.
Few seemed very interested in why he looked into rat vocalizations.
But, at the heart of rat laughter, Dr. Panksepp suspects, will lie
some of the secrets of human joy.
Fear, anger, seeking, sadness, lust, care, and play. Those are the
core emotions, the ones we share with other mammals before we add
our higher-brain spice to come up with complex mixtures such as
jealousy.
He found rats making high-pitched squeaks as he studied play. All
young mammals play, and Dr. Panksepp suspects such play is critical
to organizing the maturing brain..
Yet while he was fielding questions about "giggling" rats, something
serious was happening. His book was gaining notice.
Shelley Taylor, a psychology professor at UCLA, calls it "one of
the most important books I've ever read, in terms of its impact
on my thinking and my research."
"His book will widely be regarded in time as sort of a landmark,"
said Douglas Watt, director of neuropsychology at the Quincy Medical
Center near Boston. "I would consider it to be one of those touchstone
pieces."
Finally, it appears Dr. Panksepp's work is gaining acceptance.
"I didn't write the book to gain acceptance,'' he said. "I wrote
it to project young thinkers into the future. So success for me
would be if many young investigators start pursuing these issues."
|
|